


When We Were Young and Laughing

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Azkaban, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Madness, Melancholy, Memories, Pansy Parkinson - Character, PostWar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2010-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco doesn't remember what happened in the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young and Laughing

Draco doesn't remember what happened in the war. He took his aunt's lessons to heart, clutched them close like a mewling kitten, held them and stroked them until that was all he had left, and Occlumency shut away the horrors to leave his world soft and purring. I tried to talk with him about it once, once and once only, and his screams echoed in my ears until I fled weeping. Draco doesn't remember, and I cannot bring myself to remind him, because what he remembers instead is when we were young and laughing.

He does not remember what he did or why he's here, does not remember why his walls are stone and his bed is steel. He remembers the flower crown I wove and made him wear that May. He remembers the sunshine that warmed our bodies that June. He remembers the promise I gave him that July.

He doesn't remember after.

In Draco's world, he is sixteen, always sixteen, and his father will be home any day now, just you wait. He's always sixteen and it's always summer and he's always lying beside me in sweet meadow grass, with his hand on my thigh and his lips on my throat and _tell me again, Pansy, tell me again_. He's sixteen and I'm arching up beneath him with grass in my hair and skirts to my waist and _yes, Draco, please_. He's sixteen and we're immortal and the only marks on his body are left by my teeth in his shoulder and my nails on his back.

When his eyes start to darken, I push back his fringe and lay kisses on his eyelids. When he drags his palm across the faded brand in his arm, I pull down his sleeve and lay kisses on his wrist. He doesn't remember the blood and the fear, and I want him to live in forgetting. I sit on the steel bed, lean back on the stone wall, and he pillows his head on my lap. I pretend I cannot see how sharp his hips are beneath the striped trousers, pretend I cannot feel the ridges of his ribs. I stroke his hair and lace his fingers in mine and I tell him about the streams and hills of our childhood. I tell him _remember_ , we were young and laughing.

 _Remember_ , we chased toads and newts and got mud in our shoes. _Remember_ , we ate berries until our mouths were purple and our bellies ached. _Remember_ , we lay on moss in the shadow of a Roman wall and we kissed for the first time before either of us knew how to spell kiss. _Remember_ , we traded Chocolate Frog cards because we didn't have rings, and I still carry mine in my pocket because he wrote DM+PP in one corner.

He is sixteen, and the stone walls are the cave where he first saw me bare to skin, and the steel bed is the rock under my back as he kissed me from instep to earlobe, and my short nose and square jaw are beautiful when reflected in his eyes. He lay over me and slid into me and I made love to him for what neither of us knew would be the only time. He was angles and sweat and warmth, my thighs around his hips, my hands on his waist. He kissed with each unsteady thrust, with panting breaths, he kissed me, breasts and shoulders and throat, and I was the first one to know how his expression shifted, his grey eyes turned to mercury. I was the first one to clutch him tight when he pleaded in a rough and desperate gasp, and I was the first one to know what his voice sounded like when he stiffened and spilled within me.

He sits up and he looks at me, and there is sunshine and summer in his smile. _Pansy_ , he says, his voice full of that child's glee, that young man's awe. _Pansy, I love you._

I set my head against his shoulder and turn my face to his neck so he cannot see the tears and he'll never remember anything except when we were young and laughing.


End file.
